So what if my whole left arm has been purple for three days? It probably just needs circulation, nothing a few games of ultimate Frisbee can’t fix. And so what if I’m running 106 °F and the substance I’m currently blowing out of my nose looks radioactive? Nothing a little RnR and OJ won’t purge from the system in no time. I mean, do you know how many taco bell runs and pumpkin spice lattes could be funded for the same price as the co-pay on one trip to the doctor? The ratio is dizzying, my friend.
So understandably, I find it inconvenient when monthly (weekly?) I am confronted with a notice of my impending death. Such warnings come in the electronic medium of Kluck. Medical. Emails.
The signs started appearing September of freshman year when I first opened my Tigermail Inbox to find that Holy Cow! I had Measles/Mumps/Rubella! That kindergarten booster I endured back in the day was obviously faulty, because not only did I have fever, general malaise, sneezing, AND nasal congestion, but I had been fightin’ off a brassy cough for weeks! Sure, I could chock it up to the mold growing in my Francis Crawford AC unit, but that would just be pathetic disregard of the facts which were so blatantly staring me in the face, denial at its very finest.
And come October, I was taken aback to discover that the shortness of breath I was feeling when climbing the ESC stairs was not in fact due to too many boxes of Chik Filet waffle fries but instead, a nasty case of Sickle Cell Anemia. The signs were simply unignorable.
Since freshman year I have been dismayed month after month to learn that, not only do I have Lassa Fever, Ebola, Trichinosis, Prostate Cancer, HIV/AIDS, and three different kinds of Meningitis, but darn it, I’m pretty sure I have a rather persistent strain of SARS. (I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that civet cat kebab on our family vacation to Chongqing. Curses.)
Besides the stress it has caused my family, the most inconvenient part about this whole diagnostic process is the way it greatly conflicts with my college student search-under-seat-cushions-for-quarters-for-the-McValue-menu lifestyle. I mean, if you thought pediatricians were expensive, you would never believe the dolares one can charge when one holds the title “specialist.” And I regret to tell you that some of these diseases go beyond the scope of expertise of local physicians. I challenge you to find a doctor here in Arkansas who can confidently confirm your case of Guinea Worm Disease.
Dear Dr. Kluck, as much as I appreciate not only your concern for our physical well-being but also for our medical education, it has to stop. I just can’t take it anymore. And neither can my grandmother. After your December installment alerted me to her Coronary Artery Disease, I’m worried that her poor heart can’t take one more blow. And unfortunately, I have a growing suspicion that I have the bubonic plague. I’d just rather not know if this is true. As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. And I think in the case of both me and Grandma, a strong dose of ignorance is just what the doctor ordered.
